In the depths of the sea,where no one hears the soul's screams,to you,your final chance.
The sting of the cold was not painful—only proof that I was still alive.The waters were calm, yet absence screamed from the heart of the sea.There, amid the freezing breeze, Death lay upon the surface of the water, her tattered white dress clinging to her pale skin, her long silver hair spreading around her like strands of fading light.Her violet eyes were silent, devoid of feeling, as if the world no longer held meaning for her.
The city slept in silence at midnight. Candlelight flickered against the walls of abandoned palaces, casting long shadows that moved as though whispering secrets.
At the heart of the palace, the walls were adorned with ancient maps—borders of kingdoms that had been exploited and overthrown.Emperor Svir sat upon his throne, his piercing eyes dreaming of the day his life changed.
A man with raven-black hair and green eyes rode his horse when his gaze fell upon a woman—beautiful as a winter's day.Her white hair shimmered with silver strands, her eyes blood-red, her lips soft pink, her skin porcelain pale. She wore a simple dress, hanging freshly washed clothes in the courtyard of her humble home, deep within a forest at the edge of the Empire.What she did not know… was that this would be the last day she ever smiled.
At dawn, the village was reduced to ash.Flames devoured the houses, black smoke swallowed the sky, while Emperor Svir watched from the palace hill, his green eyes gleaming with domination and ruthless control.
Amid the chaos, the Emperor's guards stormed Laureline's home and dragged her away—toward the palace.
The chamber was dark, lit only by a faint glow slipping through a high window. Laureline sat on the floor, silent as stone.Svir stood in the corner, unmoving—yet every step, every breath of his, was calculated.
He knew who she was.The last Silvari.The final ember of a bloodline annihilated by his ancestors.
Every glance, every word choked by silence, was a carefully laid trap—meant to force her to unleash her power: the ability to bend human minds.A power he desired to possess.A weapon he intended to claim.
His plan was to exploit her for his ambitions.But he fell in love with her eyes—those eyes that continued to glow, no matter how much suffering they endured.
He wanted to own her.And he did.
In that moment, Svir felt true victory—not because he had used force, but because he had shattered the will of the last Silvari, the woman who had defied history itself.
The palace became a stage for the Emperor's cunning.Laureline became his instrument.And yet… he loved her.
He showered her with jewels, granted her the seat of Empress, did the impossible to ensure she never left his side.And if she ever tried—he would bind her in chains.
The palaces donned radiant colors. Candles gleamed, music echoed with royal melodies.But beneath the splendor lay deception and hidden sorcery.
At every banquet, in every council, Laureline was forced to use her power—to twist minds, to bend nobles away from their loyalties, to make rulers kneel to the Emperor's will, and to drown the people in silent obedience.
Men and women danced and laughed, yet every smile, every word dissolved beneath the influence of Silvari magic—a power Svir had turned into an engine of absolute control.
Laureline moved among the lights like a candle—every step measured, every gesture bound to his will.
In that moment, the Emperor watched the world move as he desired.Every citizen. Every thought. Every future—gripped in his hand.
All of it… because of the last survivor of the Silvari bloodline, a lineage erased by his hand and the hands of his ancestors.The woman who had once been a symbol of resistance had become a centerpiece of his dominion—silent, broken, yet more powerful than any army or weapon.